FLUTTER BY BUTTERFLY
i can't trust you. I can't trust what you have to say. It won't , help. because i can't trust you with myself. with knowing this impossibly changing thing this one changing thing fluttering beneath this flesh.
i have tried to pin it down for you, for myself and it seems that as soon as it's wings are pierced with pins to cork and i manage to name it for you, for myself it ceases to be essential, it freezes and crumbles to dust and the fluttering thing continues to flutter.
and i'm; well ,i'm all aflutter and it's becomes difficult to land anywhere, to just stop somewhere for a while.
i didn't recognise the sky today. it deceived me. the clouds, all bold and grey and full of rain; they were excessive. it felt like there was less space to move in; not that we make much use of that bit of space, though our eyes, become accustom to it's field for playing with thinking in. so i felt kind of squASHED. it made me want to stretch a lot. and i was in my car and i knew exactly where i was but couldn't think of where i was heading. i blushed to myself. and felt smaller.
i didn't recognise the pictures i had of people today. some of them became all gnarly, like they'd been put through photo shop and distorted. and it made me wonder if i would have imagined them like that if i hadn't seen that piece of technology work.
i felt alien to the world today and close to it like my heart was beating next to it. like it was all covered up and showing me a secret at the same time.
in one moment i thought it impossible to go on driving through this foreign place and in the next i was miraculously drunk on blessed faith. and i wondered how long it had been that i had been away, outside on the cork, i marvelled at how far away the lifeless pinned creature looked and i missed it.
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